And Then the World Went Nuts
by Queen of Duct Tape
Summary: A series of oneshots dealing with just about everything, usually ending in death, spontaneous combustion, or both, oddly enough. Funny how that works.


**And Then the World Went Nuts**

By: QDT 

Disclaimer: Yes, I am JKR, and I have nothing better to do with my time than sit around writing pathetic fanfiction for my own stories. Honestly, how thick are you?

This is a challenge from Quinn Quent on Sacred Bookshelf. Probably not exactly what he was looking for. I take all credit/blame for stupidity and lack of relevant plot.

**One**

"I don't get it."

"Honestly, Harry, it's not that difficult. You're part of Voldemort's, well, your, plan to live forever," Hermione rolled her eyes and gestured at parchment covered in lots of little writing, diagrams, arrows, and random squiggly things that must have meant something. "I've written it all down for you. Now all you have to do is go find Voldemort and ask him how to get all your true memories back."

"So I'm not trying to kill him anymore?"

"No. That would be like suicide. Only different, because you'd still live, but you'd kill your… other self."

Harry blinked at her. That could not possibly have made sense. Thankfully, Ron looked just as confused as he.

"So Harry's really Voldemort and cooked up some weird plan with those Horcrux things about seventeen years ago so that Harry or Voldemort could have something to do with his teenage years?"

"Well, yes, that's the gist of it," said Hermione, pleased that they had finally caught on.

"Where'd you get an idea like that, anyway?" asked Harry.

"Professor Snape told me. By the way, he has some potions for you to take to get all your memories as Tom Riddle back and continue the process of cloning."

"What does cloning have to do with anything?"

"That's what Voldemort's done. He's cloned himself, and named his clone Harry, and he found a way to make your personality like his as well, which is what those potions are for, Harry, so you'd best get down to the dungeons."

"You're going to let me go down to the dungeons so Snape can give me some potions to turn me into the most evil wizard who ever lived?" Harry was looking at Hermione as though she should be locked up in St. Mungo's.

"_Professor_ Snape, Harry. And, actually, I don't think it's going to work. I think he's added too much aventurine and not enough chrysoprase, and while I am not entirely sure of the effects this will have on you and/or your memory, there is a stock of bezoars on hand and I'm sure it will prove to be a very interesting experiment. I've agreed to write an article on it for St. Mungo's monthly newsletter, and I wouldn't be surprised if they put it into the Daily Prophet as well."

"You're publishing the scientfic effects of something that could quite possibly kill me!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry. You won't die. Voldemort's still alive, isn't he?"

"Well, sometimes I wish he wasn't!"

"Harry! That could be interpreted as suicidal!"

"Actually, Hermione," Ron interrupted, "you've gone nutters. For the past six or seven years you've been helping Harry try to kill Voldemort, and now you want to join him in scientific experiments on Harry."

Hermione looked miffed. "They're not scientific experiments, Ron, we're studying the magical components of the extracts of certain stones and their effect on the abilities of clones to remember their donors' past lives. That's alchemy."

Ron and Harry exchanged a look. "Like I said. You've gone nutters."

Meanwhile, Voldemort and Snape were getting rather impatient waiting for Hermione to bring Harry down to the dungeons. So impatient, in fact, as to floo themselves into the Gryffindor common room and administer the potion to Harry there.

"What are you doin―? Hey! Get that vial away from me!" Harry jumped over a couch.

"Really, Harry, it's for your own good," said Hermione, seating herself at a table, quill poised over a piece of parchment.

"How exactly do you figure that?" Harry jumped over Hermione's table, another couch, and an overstuffed armchair. Never mind how he managed that. He just did.

"It was in Professor Dumbledore's will!"

"Then why didn't Dumbledore say anything about it, I wonder? Because it's not true!"

"Professor Dumbledore did a lot of things he didn't explain to you. Just because he didn't tell you doesn't mean it's not true." Hermione sounded seriously displeased by this point. "Please, at least do it to see if it will work! It could seriously further treatment for numerous mental disorders in both the wizarding and muggle worlds!"

"You want me to take a potion that could possibly kill me for the sake of _science_?"

Hermione didn't have a chance to answer. Shocked by his revelation, Harry paused for a moment, long enough for Snape to shove the potion down his throat. Apparently, the use of chrysoprase in memory treatments was not advisable because no sooner had Harry choked down the potion that he had spontaneously combusted (or unspontaneously combusted, depending on how you look at it), thereby causing the entire Gryffindor tower to virtually implode, thus killing everyone in the room. And, indeed, half of the school.

Later, an article in the _Quibbler_ reported a recent outbreak of fire salamanders, which, coincidentally enough, usually thrive around chrysoprase.

_**finis**_

This, dear children, is why you should never let the Queen of Duct Tape in the vicinity of a stupid idea. Because if I can do this to a halfway decent plot, nothing is safe. Please remember to review.


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